Broken Shards of Pottery
by Nozomi
Summary: [SJ, YY] We all know Malik Ishtar is the poster boy for Doom and Destruction, and rightly so. Alas, sometimes nothing works better than the more 'subtle' methods, and Hey! What's he doing with a 'love potion! And over by Jou and... 'Yugi?
1. Better Left for Someone Else To Find

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Broken Shards of Pottery  
_Prologue: Better Left for Someone Else To Find_

  
  


Malik Ishtar was the type of demonic presence not to be taken lightly.

Beneath the adolescent body and the unnerving indigo eyes-- those who had dared to call them 'pretty' or, worse, 'feminine', were long dead-- yes, beneath those rather misleading traits was a cunning and a strength that was ruthless to the core. All those who somehow _failed _to learn this simple yet elegant fact usually found themselves six feet under, a thousand scarabs gnawing at their decaying flesh for all eternity.

There were those precious few, however, who outright _refused_ to acknowledge the reality of Malik's total domination, and, worse yet-- who got away with it. The fact that there were people who actually managed to escape his hysteric bouts of mass murder did not please him, not at all. The supplement fact that those people happened to include the pharaoh and his damned brat of a consort pleased him even less.

And so he began to plot. Revenge, of course, was his foremost thought-- but revenge of what sort, he wondered? A gory, bloody revenge with lots and lots of mangling and killing and blood and death and destruction? Or perhaps something a bit less bloody?

Blood, of course, was always his first option. But sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures. There would be no blood this time, he told himself. He needed something that ran _deeper_.

Vaguely, he felt traces of his yami's annoyance at having the chance of blood and death ripped from his clutching hands, and tried to ignore it for the moment.

But what ran deeper than crimson strands, rivers of red marking painted paths down porcelain skin? Malik mused thoughtfully. Treachery? Betrayal? One could never be sure, for fate had a way of using events in her own twisted game. There was always a chance that something would go horribly, horribly wrong, straying from the path he had set.

It was then that he found the book. Or perhaps, cliché as it may sound, _it _was the one that found _him_.

**********

For the past several days, Malik had holed himself up in the depths of his family's ancient Egyptian book collection, poring intensely over ancient texts and manuscripts, straining his eyes just to be able to make out the faded writings on pages fragile with age.

He had been ignoring both his own plans of world domination and his Rare Hunters for close to a fortnight, and the lack of sleep was finally beginning to affect him, clawing at his mind like a physical thing. His body needed sleep, _craved_ the sweet release of slumber, for if he hadn't been pulling what these islanders called an 'all-nighter', he had been tossing and turning fitfully, brain rolling plans and ideas over and over in his head.

To be frank, he was obsessed; obsessed with revenge. The idea clouded his mind and drove him ever onward, it pushed him farther that even he thought he could have gone. And still he searched; and still, he found nothing. Nothing was exactly right for his purposes, nothing had that sort of flair that he was known for. The ideas for vengeance these books presented (or accounted, as the case may be) were too simple, too inelegant. He needed something that positively _reeked_ of maliciousness and evil.

He needed something that would break a soul and sever the ties of the god-forsaken per-aa's friendship with those brats of his forever. [1]

And nothing, absolutely _nothing_ in these would do. Cursing in fluent Egyptian, Malik angrily swept his hands through the documents scattered across the old oak desk, disturbing and disorganizing papers as they fell haphazardly onto the floor. In a fit of rage, he clutched the book he had been studying and threw it across the room at a bookshelf, uncaring of the ancient artifact's well being. The book hit the shelf with a resounding _thump_, then fell ungracefully to the floor, pages ruffling in irritation.

The room fell silent once again, and with an angry sigh Malik dropped himself into his comfortable office chair, limbs splaying ungracefully. What was he going to do? There was nothing, in all those books, that he could work with. He had checked them all through time and again. The knowledge that spanned centuries, his family's knowledge that he had always taken great pride in, had failed him. The blonde reached up and rubbed his blurry eyes wearily.

__

Thump.

Purple eyes blinked and grew understandably wary. He had given explicit instructions _not_ to be disturbed whatever the reason, even if both the High Priest and the per-aa suddenly showed up at his door, completely naked and offering him their Kami no Cards for free-- although he imagined _that_ particular scenario was highly unlikely, but amusing. He knew his Rare Hunters would not dare to disobey him, so the question was-- who had disturbed the room?

Whoever it was, they were going to see their own blood before their eyes before he was through with them. Perhaps it was time he engaged in a bit of stress relief, Malik mused darkly.

He stood, all of his usual inherent grace restored to him at the completion of his unnatural fit of anger, and carefully searched the room. When he was finished, however, he had found nothing-- no Rare Hunter cowering in the face of his sleep-deprived irritation, no enemy spy concealed in the shadows. There was not a single presence in the place besides his exalted self.

What, then, had made that sound?

Inexplicably, his violet gaze was drawn towards the corner near his desk, where the manuscript he had thrown now lay quietly. Now that he thought about it, the noise _had_ been rather close at hand...

On the floor lay two books. Malik felt one eyebrow rise in surprise, and darted a glance towards the bookshelves behind the fallen tomes. Indeed, there was a spot missing for the toppled book. _Damnit._ He had been hoping for a bit of blood and mutilation to brighten up his dreary day. There went that plan.

Eyes narrowed at the false hope he had harbored, the blond ambled across the room, stopping in front of the small pile of books. He glared suspiciously at the 'other' book for a moment, cursed inventively (something involving a misbegotten son of a dung beetle and a certain pharaoh), and then cautiously picked up the book-- one never could tell with these older books. Some of them had yet to be de-contaminated of the lingering traces of malignant spells.

When nothing outright happened at his touch (he heaved a purely mental sigh when his past experience of being electrocuted wasn't repeated; once had been quite enough for him), he lifted the book for his inspection, running his hands cautiously over the worn cover. Books didn't just fall off of shelves all of sudden, a good half a minute after anything had hit then. Especially-- he lined the tome up with the hole in the line of books it had vacated-- when the book was so tightly packed in as to resemble a sardine.

Malik 'hmm'ed and brought the book back to himself, running a casual eye over the faded words that graced the cover.

__

'Kemet: Spells and Summonings'. [2] A lone blonde eyebrow rose at the words. _Dark Magic?_ How had this escaped his notice before? He had made sure to cover every inch of the libraries his family held. And yet here was undeniable proof that he had not done as he thought he had done. Malik scowled darkly, annoyed at his own incompetence. He expected such behavior out of his Rare Hunters, but from himself it was a disgrace.

Malik was not happy. But, perhaps... he would be? His mind finished the thought as a question, and he redirected his attention back to the book lying docilely in his darkly tanned hands, sliding a finger under the worn cover and slowly slipping it open. He was amazed at how smoothly it did so, and even more amazed at what he found inside.

Every other book he had researched on his required subject had been old, faded and worn, the words a challenge to make out properly. The cover of this particular one had been as worn as any of the others, if not more so, but...

The book was written entirely in hieroglyphs, as he had expected from a book of his native country. And, though he knew anything in this particular section of the library had to be two thousand years old or more, the word-pictures were so bright and crisp that it seemed they had only been etched onto the pages hours ago. Malik ran a tanned finger smoothly across the presented images, and imagined he could feel the realities and shapes of the various objects on the papyrus-- though of course the sensation was only in his mind.

And then he dropped the book in disgust; if such a waste of magic had been used to preserve the actual _text_, then the spells would be the next thing up from useless. It was the creating sorcerer's job to infuse each spell he wrote with a bit of magic to make it work, but if all the magic was used to make the book look pretty, then there would be none left to aid the actual spells. Only an apprentice mage would do something so utterly _stupid._

Unless, of course-- he paused, eyes once again drawn to the book, which had fallen open to a random page when he had dropped it-- the sorcerer was so powerful that he could _afford_ to waste magic on theatrics, in which case...

Malik smiled, and it was not a nice smile. Once again he leaned down and picked up the volume, eyes instantly alighting on the first spell it had fallen open to, and he blanched. A love potion? What kind of dark magic was a _love potion?_ Perhaps he had been correct in his assessment of the tome's creator the first time, after all. He began to read...

And Malik laughed, in utter delight. It was _perfect!_

**********

It took him the better part of a week, but he managed to gather the ingredients needed for the spell together. Strange though it may seem, he only had to look at the list once to know explicitly everything that was on it; it was almost like the book was whispering to him, telling him what he needed. Helping him. The hardest item to find on the list, by far, was the single human heart, but he eventually managed.

His Rare Hunters began to fear being summoned to the study that had become his miniature dungeon after that particular incident; the screams had echoed in the halls for a full half hour, though not a single soul came to check on him. His minions were smarter that he had originally thought.

The rest of the week was spent on the process of actually concoction the solution, which was difficult and very involved. He pored over the words inscribed in the book whenever possible, checking and double checking his work time and again, making sure he did everything down to the last second. He wanted to make the pharaoh pay, and pay dearly.

Finally, _finally_, it was finished, and he allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk as he watched the potion steep in the container he had used. In a few hours times it would be completely ready, and then he would make his move.

But, Malik wondered, how to use it? And-- more puzzling yet-- who to use it on? One of per-aa's friends of course, but, specifically, which one? He would have to think about it a bit; the Egyptian wanted this plan to have the best effect it possibly could, and for that, he needed to think it through. He couldn't afford to mess this up.

Two days later, once his Rare Hunters had begun to stop cowering and sniveling so reverently (though they always stood in awe of him, by nature of who he was), as he was walking down the street, Malik spotted something bright and disgustingly neon pink fluttering against a telephone pole. Interested, he crossed the rode, unheeding of any oncoming cars, and scanned the words that lined the page. His face twisted into a picture of maniac glee as he read the flyer, and when he was done, he ripped the page off of the pole and folded it, stuffing it into a pocket to peruse for later planning.

Seto Kaiba was holding a Battle City convention soon, open to any participating duelists and one friend each. Malik knew that the pharaoh would be there without a doubt, his little cheerleading squad tagging along for the ride. It was the perfect opportunity, and just what Malik had been looking for. He wasn't one to ignore when opportunity knocked. In fact, he liked to make his own chances.

Soon, the pharaoh would fall, and Malik would make sure to be there to kick viciously at his broken pieces.

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[1] - _Per-aa _- I believe this is the word used in Egyptian to refer to the pharaoh. It means something like 'great house' and usually meant the one who dwelled in the great house, the pharaoh.

[2] - _Kemet_ - I also believe this is what the Egyptians actually called Egypt, but I could be wrong on both of these points. Fun fact: Did you know that the Egyptians referred to themselves as the 'Children of the Sun'?

*grins* So, what did you think? Is that a convincing enough Malik for ya? Sorry if it's not, but I've only seen a few episodes with him in it...

Anyway, the rest of the cast should be coming in the next chapter or so, and that's when the plot really begins to get started, so stay tuned, everyone, and please remember: every author loves C&C, especially to make his/her fic better!

Push the little purple button! *pokes* ^.^;


	2. Foundations

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Many Thanks To: KittyKatu, Kitt Sseh, Neko-chan (Random _insanity_, not stupidity. ^.^ Don't worry, it made me laugh.), darkpoetrystar, Ocean (Ohh... 'enticing'? *blushes*), mew-magic5, dilanda, and Mokona. *glomps you guys* I really appreciate all of your comments! ^.^

And thanks to everyone who put this story in your favorites! *double glomp*

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Broken Shards of Pottery  
_Chapter One: Foundations_

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Dear Sis,

Hey! How ya doing? Sorry I can't come visit you today. You've probably heard about this huge party thing Kaiba's throwin, right? For all the duelists? Yeah, well, I'm going to that. Yugi and Anzu are comin too. It'll be a regular madhouse, I'm pretty sure, with all those duelists in one place. The good thing is that it'll be that much harder to run into Moneybags while I'm there.

I promise I'll try to be civil if I actually do meet up with him, though, cause I know how you feel about me gettin into fights, Shizuka. I can't promise anything, though. That guy really should get that stick out of his scrawny ass before it gets stuck there permanently.

I'm joking. Don't look like that.

Anyways, I'm givin this note to Honda to give to ya, and I'll make sure he reads it to ya out loud, k? And if he forgets cause he's too caught up with you I'll kick his sorry ass. That was another joke, sis. I already know you don't approve of my type of humor, don't worry.

I'll come see you in a few days, OK? Till then I'll let Honda keep you company.

Let me know if he tries anything funny, though.

Oh, and Yugi says hi.

Love,  
Katsuya

**********

Katsuya Jounouchi signed his name to the hastily-scrawled note with a flourish, then folded up the small slip of paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Making a mental note to drop it off at Honda's on the way to the fancy hotel where Kaiba's Battle City convention was being held, the blond turned to see Yugi Motou dash down the stairs that lead from the apartment upstairs to the first-floor game shop, hair in disarray and looking quite flustered as he struggled with a blue denim jacket that outright refused to go on properly.

"Jounouchi-kun!" The name came out as a muffled squeak as Yugi fought bravely with the inanimate object. "We're gonna be late!"

The blond glanced at the clock hanging on the shop wall, and indeed, it read six forty-five, nearly sunset. The convention opened its doors at seven, and it would take at least fifteen minutes to get there, threading through the crowd of other duelists as they would have to. Jounouchi shrugged casually, though the move was lost on Yugi. The jacket now had his head in a stranglehold.

"Nothing wrong wit bein' late, Yug'. Just means Kaiba won't be waiting to see us through the door." He smirked. "What a shame."

The shorter youth had finally bested his valiant opponent, and maneuvered his arms into their proper places in the jacket. "But, Jounouchi-kun-- I wanted to see what Kaiba has planned. It's supposed to be really spectacular. Besides, it's a good chance to study the other duelist's strategies." And suddenly, in the small pause between sentences, Jounouchi was no longer looking at Yugi.

The casual outsider, of course, wouldn't know the difference. Jounouchi was not just a casual observer, however; he had witnessed this strange transformation often since he had met the shorter boy, and though this presence that seemed somehow dark had once claimed to be Yugi, and had responded to that particular name, Jounouchi knew in his core that they were different entirely. Yugi had once referred to him as 'the other me', and Jounouchi had overheard Anzu calling him 'Yami'.

'Darkness'. It seemed to fit this odd youth, this person different from anyone the blond had ever encountered; the one with the strangely slanted crimson eyes and smooth skin still bearing the faded traces of a desert tan. This stranger was all the things Yugi wasn't, and never had been; confident, in control, poised, and-- Jounouchi snickered inwardly-- taller, though still rather short when compared to the others in their little group.

He wasn't, however, perfect. Jounouchi had witnessed how cruel the other could be firsthand. He was also brash, and willing to sacrifice almost anything to get what he wanted-- even if the sacrifice turned out to be a human life. 'Yami' was anything but perfect.

Jounouchi blinked, startled, as a warm hand was placed over his own. There was another difference between Yugi and his darkness, one of the smaller things nobody but Yugi's closest friends even noticed-- Yugi's hands were slightly callused, roughened by years of working on puzzles and games, while the other's were smooth as silk. The blond doubted that the darker half had ever done much physical labor of his own, which would definitely account for those almost-unnaturally smooth hands.

"Jounouchi-kun? Is something wrong?" 

The blond shook himself out of his daydream and grinned at Yugi... Yami... whatever. "Sorry 'bout that. Guess I'm a bit tired."

Yami tilted his head slightly, looking at him. "You were staring. Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere important, buddy." He'd been staring? "So, we goin' or we stickin' around like a bunch of losers?

The crimson-eyed youth smirked, grabbing his deck off of the counter next to Jounouchi. "Going, of course. We're late as it is, so we'd better hurry."

The blond reached in his pocket to double-check on the safety of his note. "Yeah, about that..."

**********

The place had been remarkably simple to sneak into. He hadn't even had to dodge the odd pudgy-rent-a-cop-with-a-gun ornamental, Malik mused sourly, slightly disappointed. Sure, he was all for covert operations and the like when necessary, but a little healthy violence and bloodshed wouldn't have hurt anything.

Irked, Malik patted his shirt pocket to make sure the two vials he'd brought were still intact, then set about straightening his windswept hair, tangled during the motorcycle drive to get there. With a small shake of his head he felt the straight blond locks fall neatly into place, and he made a vaguely self-satisfied sound in the back of his throat at the ease of which they did so.

For the second time in ten minutes, he let his mind dwell on the plan he had so meticulously constructed, which included all steps and probable reactions to those steps. It was remarkably simple compared to his other ploys, he had realized after going over it once, if a bit less direct than some. His sister had never accused him of being the most obvious grape in the bunch.

His first step was to locate the pharaoh and his groupies. If luck was even the slightest bit inclined to favor him, the one called 'Yami' would be relatively secluded. Malik slipped quietly into the large main room of the convention and let his gaze slowly scan the area. He spotted his victims easily. Gods-be-praised, the pharaoh and the blond stood alone in a corner, which also happened to be coincidentally located near a buffet table. Even more beneficial to his plans, the dark-haired female was nowhere in sight.

Now all he needed to do was wait for the perfect opportunity to slip the blond the potion. Since the two were alone, there would be no chance of the puppy seeing someone else the instant after drinking the potion. He would inevitable look at the per-aa, and then the gears of his plan would begin to turn. All he needed was the right moment.

As Malik settled down to watch the pair, he saw the blond separate from the pharaoh and head down the food table-- straight towards the punch.

The Egyptian smiled.

**********

Beneath his jacket, carefully concealed, Katsuya Jounouchi cradled two darkly tinted bottles. He grinned mischievously to himself, slowly inching towards on of the punch bowls that graced the buffet table. It wasn't a _real_ party until someone spiked the punch, he thought smugly. Not that Kaiba would approve.

Yeah, well, screw the bastard anyway. Jounouchi refused to let his mood be soured by thoughts of the prick. It was his party; if he wasn't keeping a close eye on things, then that punch _deserved_ to be spiked. Kaiba probably wouldn't notice anyway; rich-boy likely had his own bowl of punch-- it wouldn't do to soil his mouth by drinking from the same bowl everyone else drank out of.

Still, Jounouchi thought idly, eyes darting around to see if he was being watched, seeing Kaiba drunk off his ass would have been amusing.

...He'd probably be a mean drunk, anyway. Not that the blond thought Kaiba could really top his usual bastard self just by consuming a little alcohol.

Stealthily, Jounouchi leaned against the food-laden table and reached into his jacket, producing one of the two bottles he had hidden. Trying to look as nonchalant as he possibly could, the blond slowly popped the cap and began pouring the contents of the bottle into the crimson liquid in the large bowl, careful not to splash.

Done, Jounouchi slowly lowered the now-empty bottle to the floor and inched it under the table, making sure that the stark white tablecloth hid any sign of glass. He turned and ambled away, but couldn't find it in himself to whistle cheerfully.

Damnit, it just wasn't as much fun alone. He usually did this kind of stuff with Honda, but, of course, he wasn't there. Honda was visiting Shizuka in the hospital. And who else was there? Yugi probably didn't even know the meaning of 'spike the punch' ("Is it some sort of game, Jounouchi-kun? *puzzled grin*"), and Anzu-- well, if he'd approached her with this kind of practical joke in mind, he'd have received that slightly disbelieving look she sometimes got, and been asked where he'd gotten the beer. That he'd lifted it from his father's stash didn't matter; he did it all the time, and it wasn't like his old man was gonna notice a couple of missing bottles. He was always too drunk to pay attention to the little things anymore.

Besides, Anzu wasn't around at the moment. The girl had struck off on her own a few minutes after arriving with them. Said she wanted to check out the cards and had headed straight towards the dealer room. Jounouchi wanted to visit there as well, eventually, because he'd heard so much about it. Supposedly, Kaiba had found all these Duel Monsters card shops and had convinced them to rent booths and sell their wares. Someone could probably find a lot of rare cards floating around. Of course Yami didn't really need rare cards, but it never hurt to look.

He grinned and glanced appraisingly at the nearest buffet table, piled high with food, all of it looking delicious. That the food was free would no doubt make it taste even sweeter in Jounouchi's mouth. Happily, he grabbed a plate and began to pile some of everything he could reach onto it-- everything except for food that looked even vaguely healthy, of course. If Kaiba was picking up the tab, why settle for anything less than total pig-out on junk food?

Sometimes he really loved his life.

**********

Malik stole over to the food-covered table the moment he saw the blond pup make a beeline for the snacks. This was his chance, his one opportunity. All he had to do was hand the boy a cup of fruit juice laced with his own special additions while the blond was passing by. Simple, really. Remarkably so.

Darting a swift hand into his pocket, he carefully pulled out the two vials of liquid. Malik opened the first one, which held most of the love potion, deftly. With his free hand he removed the cork from the second vial, containing some sort of clear substance that could have been water, but wasn't. Summoning up the words of the incantation the book had clearly specified, he ever-so-carefully poured exactly one small drop of the clear liquid into the first vial, and spoke. The whispered words were fluid and graceful. They sent a chill of anticipation running down his spine.

"_Sax f HAty n sp ba, HqA f in f Swt. SnH r f st-bi, I wr Hwt-Hr..._" [1] Purple eyes watched gleefully as the contents of the first vial, which had once been a murky green, bubbled wildly as if somehow anxious to get underway, then cleared in one last rainbow swirl of colors. It was exactly as the spellbook had said it would be. The blond quickly ladled crimson punch into a paper cup, pouring the whole of the now-complete potion in afterwards.

He was only just in time, for at that exact moment the puppy had finally managed to fill his plate as high as physically possible and was carefully making his way towards the per-aa. Said crimson-eyed youth was leaning casually against a wall, ever watchful.

"Punch?" the psychotic blond genius (if he did say so himself) offered as the other youth ambled past.

Jounouchi paused, lowered the plate he was precariously balancing so that he could gaze over it and see who was talking to him, and blinked slowly at Malik for a moment. "Eh..." Amber eyes darted from Malik, to the offered cup, to another punch bowl farther down the table and then back again. The blond Egyptian had seen the other youth hanging around that particular punch bowl a few minutes earlier, and had thought nothing of it. Now he wondered, though none of it showed on his carefully pleasant face.

"...Sure. Thanks," The blond transferred the whole overflowing plate onto one hand, and for a moment Malik wondered whether everything would suddenly come crashing to the floor and create a nice mess of things. His doubts were in vain, however, as the other blond reached out and took the cup with the ease of long practice, pale fingers brushing against Malik's own tanned ones for the briefest fraction of an instant. Jounouchi grinned cheerfully at him. "I'm Katsuya Jounouchi."

"...There are those who call me Namu."

The blond shifted, re-balancing his plate. "Namu, huh? That's cool. So..." Amber eyes gave him a quick once-over. "You goin' as somebody, or is that yer everyday style?"

Odd sort of question, that. There were those attending the convention, he had noticed, that were taking part in an event called 'cosplay', in which they dressed up in a costume of their favorite duel monster, but _he_ certainly wasn't participating in such a game. He had other games he was involved in. 

Malik glanced down at himself, wondering what was wrong or out of place. He saw, as usual, a dark purple shirt that was short enough to show off his darkly tanned midriff, a pair of hip-hugging jeans, and a gold armband winding around his upper arm. Nothing unusual, was it? Perhaps he was a bit more eye-catching than most, but the other blond hadn't been referring to him in general, only to his clothing.

He pasted on a smile, hoping he looked vaguely polite. "...My normal fashion sense, I'm afraid."

"Eh. Well, I gotta get back," the blond looked away, towards the darkened corner where Yami stood, watching. "I'll talk to ya later, k?" And, without even waiting for a reply, Jounouchi was walking off. He didn't see the tight smile melt into a mocking smirk, nor did he see the malicious sparkle that flickered to life in Malik's eyes.

"Yes, we will..." the Egyptian muttered. _Very soon, I should think, if the pharaoh has any mind towards your well being, Katsuya Jounouchi._

**********

Though it seemed like some sort of modern miracle, Jounouchi made it over to his seat near Yami without spilling a single crumb of the food he had so greedily taken for himself. The blond liked to call that skill 'pure talent'.

"Want some?" He offered to his shorter companion. Yami gave a small shake of his head, eyes roaming the room for what felt like the thousandth time that night. The crimson-eyed youth was nervous; his very core was uneasy, and he had no idea why, though it might have something to do with the fact that the Rare Hunters had not shown their ugly faces for close to a week. Yami felt like the tension was pulling tighter, akin to a wound cord, and that soon, sooner than he would like, something would snap. All hell would break loose.

He just hoped he was prepared.

The blond shrugged nonchalantly, unaware of the direction of the darker boy's thoughts. "Your loss." He grunted, all attention now trained on his food as he attacked it with a vigor reserved for growing teenage boys. For the moment, the cup of punch lay, unassuming, on a small table set up for diners that the group had claimed for themselves.

Yami had always been dually amazed at the rate that Jounouchi could tuck away food. The first time he'd witnessed this strange phenomenon at one particular lunchtime with the group he had resorted to questioning Yugi, totally and utterly flabbergasted at what he saw. His smaller counterpart had smiled one of his almost-shy smiles and told him that most active teenage boys ate that way-- for them, it was the norm. To Yami, it was a mystery, one of the marvels of the modern world. Jounouchi could pack away in just one sitting what the dark-eyed youth couldn't handle in a week.

Said blond paused as if struck by a sudden thought, his plate of snacks almost clean. "Hey Yug'? Er... Yami?"

"Yes?" The shorter youth diverted his gaze for a brief instant towards the blond, then resumed his careful watch.

Jounouchi swallowed. This guy had always intimidated him a bit, and he didn't know if that was on purpose or not. "Are you and Yugi... I mean, is it all right if I talk to him...? Eh, what I mean..."

Yami, amused at the blond's sudden indecisiveness, felt a smirk tug insistently at his lips. "Yes, Yugi can hear you quite clearly. At the moment, we are... sharing, of a sort."

The blond blinked. That was sort of a creepy idea, to have someone sharing your body. It made him want to do an exorcism or something. "Ok. So... 'Yami', is it? How-- I mean, _who_--?" he stumbled over his words, feeling foolish. It was almost like asking your best friend who he was, exactly. It felt very odd, and probably sounded more so.

The crimson-eyed youth sighed, shifting so that he was staring straight at the flustered blond. "You are wondering who, or perhaps even _what_, I am, aren't you?"

Jounouchi swallowed at the intensity of those ruby red eyes. "...Yeah."

Exotically slanted orbs turned marginally sorrowful and were cast downwards, though Yami lost none of his outward poise. "I can't tell you that, Jounouchi, and it's not a deliberate evasion. I just... don't know. And I can't pass on information I don't possess."

"Oh." The blond stared down at his plate for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. "Well, when ya _do_ find out, I'm first on the list, all right? I don't like bein' kept in suspense, ya know. Ya gotta let me know on these kinds of things." Appetite suddenly revived with a vengeance, he picked his plate clean and stood. "I'm gonna get some more grub. You want anything?"

The world-renowned King of Games had already turned back to his self-assigned post. "No. Thank you."

"Whatever." This guy never seemed to eat. No wonder he was so thin. Slightly appalled at Yami's lack of appetite, Jounouchi turned, eyes catching on a small object on the table. Punch. Right. He was thirsty, wasn't he? And someone had been nice enough to pour it for him, so he shouldn't let it go to waste. He grabbed the cup and started for the food once again, feeling satisfied.

Yeah, he _was_ sort of thirsty, he realized. Some of that food had been dry. Cheap-ass Kaiba.

He downed the punch in one gulp, and felt liquid fire course through his veins. Vaguely, Jounouchi heard a crash, and realized that the other beer bottle he had been carrying had fallen to the ground and smashed into pieces, but that was the least of his worries.

**********

Malik could only watch in horrified and dawning realization as the dumb blond flushed a dark red and dropped the empty plate and cup, stumbling directly _away_ from the pharaoh-- and into the nearest bathroom.

**********

Jounouchi stumbled, vision blurring slightly as he entered the bathroom, feeling sick. His insides were doing somersaults and his blood was burning in his veins, and all he could thing was that the beer he had stolen had been poisoned-- but he realized the punch given to him hadn't been from the bowl he had spiked.

He retched, feeling bile rise up in the back of his throat, and half-walked half-stumbled towards the trashcan stowed under the sinks. With one body-wracking heave his stomach began to empty it's contents into the bin, and he moaned. The blond absolutely _hated_ being sick, especially when it came on this suddenly.

His insides gave another heave, and then another. Soon there was nothing left in him, and he could only reflexively dry-heave, feeling miserable. Sometime he really hated his life.

His head hurt, and his mouth tasted terrible. Stumbling dizzily to his feet, he pushed the trashcan back under the sink in disgust and made a grab for the cold-water tap on one of the sinks. A wave of nausea and dizziness over took him as he leaned down, and he had to keep his eyes tightly screwed shut as he thoroughly rinsed his mouth out.

The cold water felt soothing against the back of his throat, calming his stomach down, though his blood still felt overly heated. He desperately splashed water over his face in an effort to cool himself down, but it didn't seem to help. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Aw, did the poor Chihuahua eat a bad doggy biscuit? A fitting punishment for stuffing your face like some sort of overgrown ape."

Jounouchi froze, blood stilling in his veins. He knew that voice, all too well.

Slowly, steadying himself as he went, he twisted the faucet off and turned. In the sudden stillness of the bathroom, the blond found himself staring straight into the cold blue eyes of the last person he wanted to see when he was feeling so miserable.

Seto Kaiba.

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[1] - _Sax f HAty n sp ba; HqA f in f Swt. SnH r f st-b, I wr Hwt-Hr - _Loosely translated, it means something like, "Transfigure his heart and soul; rule him by his identity (or his personality). Bind him to his affection, O great Hathor." Hathor was, I believe, the goddess of love and wine.

I've noticed you can always tell who my favorite characters are by my writing. They're either the main character or they get put through a veritable hell. Or both, actually.

I feel so sadistic. .

Remember, reviews make the world go 'round! *pokes the readers*


	3. Random Variable

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Many Thanks To: Hakusen, Kaneda-Shotaro and Yami Tetsuo, crazykiwi, Black Flame Dragon, Hana, Kitt Sseh, Echo17, Devilkid, OxBeachFlirtxO1, AngelicMouseGirl, Ocean, KittyKatu, darkpoetrystar, Lady Geuna, Renee the Rabid Squirrel, Scarabsi, alostblackcat, random reader, and Lily. Reviews make the world go 'round!

And I'm very sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out, but it is a very pivotal part of the story, and I wanted it to come out just right, since I am very much a perfectionist. Unfortunately, I don't think it does come out right, exactly, but I thought that I had made you wait long enough. It seems this is one of my most popular stories. *grin* Thanks, everyone. 

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Broken Shards of Pottery  
_Chapter Two: Random Variable_

The door was mocking him.

Malik scowled and shifted more of his weight to lean against the wall behind him, attempting a casual pose as he silently willed the offensive object to _move, _damnit! The door, however, did no such thing; it rather enjoyed thwarting a pissed off schizophrenic, and so stayed stubbornly closed. The blond's scowl grew deeper. He was thoroughly displeased with how events had turned out so far.

However careful Malik had been during the procedure, something had still gone wrong. He hadn't counted on the potion somehow being affected by the sheer amount of junk food the blond pup had been stuffing his face with. He hadn't counted on the boy to suddenly become violently ill and flee to the bathroom. He hadn't counted on the least likely thing of all-- for Seto Kaiba to unknowingly enter that very same bathroom not five minutes later.

Once again, that god-forsaken High Priest had proved how adept he was at getting into mischief that didn't involve him.

And the damned door _still_ wouldn't budge. It had been another three minutes already; surely the worst had come to pass by now. Or, perhaps, the Priest was finding some place to hide the mutilated body. Kaiba would surely be displeased at having the blond fawn over him like the puppy he was so often accused of being.

Malik nearly jumped out of his skin when someone pushed open the bathroom door and rushed past him without a second glance, looking both flushed and chagrined. Jounouchi.

The door did not swing open a second time. Malik glanced from it to the retreating form of the blond, then back again, half-formulated questions and answers whirling in his mind at this strange and unexpected new development. After a moment, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Perhaps he would get something he wanted out of this yet.

**********

Jounouchi sucked in a quick breath. "Kaiba." He spat, narrowing his eyes. Why did the rich bastard always have to find him at his most inopportune moments? It seemed that Fortune liked to spit in his face whenever circumstances came to this particular person. The blond clenched his fists, but fought not to actually take a swing at the brunette. Yuugi would kill him it he started a fight now. Plus, he had promised Shizuka. "You--" He swallowed as Kaiba took a step closer, and suddenly felt hotter.

Being sick and confronting Seto Kaiba; two things very low on his list of favorite hobbies.

Kaiba's smirk grew. "What's the matter pup, cat got your tongue? I suppose it's only fitting."

Jounouchi sputtered indignantly and took a step forward, fighting to keep bile from rising into his mouth. "Why, you--!"

Blue eyes watched coolly as the blonde swayed, overtaken by sudden dizziness. Feeling superior next to this clown was so easy. "Feeling ill, I take it? Perhaps the vet has an opening."

"Damn you..."

Seto sniffed disgustedly at the less-than-intelligent banter, but didn't so much as twitch when the blond stumbled forward another step and reached out blindly, latching on to the billionaire's trench-coat and using the hold to haul himself upward. Sneering, the blue-eyed teen lifted his arms to shove the mongrel violently away-- and felt something warm and slightly moist brush against his lips.

**********

Okay, this was nice, Jounouchi thought dazedly. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had blacked out for a second after that dizzy spell, and now all the sickness seemed to have disappeared. Now he just felt sort of light and... fuzzy. He smiled slightly. Much better.

Wait, what was he supposed to be doing...? Right. Fighting with Kaiba.

Um... _Kaiba_? Jounouchi paused. Something wasn't right here. Why did he feel cloth underneath his fingers? And why was someone breathing so close to his ear? Hesitantly, the blond cracked one eye open-- and found himself staring straight into a furious blue one opposite his own.

"Shit!" The blond backpedaled at the same moment Kaiba pushed him away, and Jounouchi's back slammed hard into the wall, his body sliding down the tiled surface as his legs gave out from underneath him.

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Oh God, I just--

He watched Kaiba take a violent step backward, then turn and spit derisively into the sink, and realized that he could still taste the brunette-- a slightly spicy mint, as if Kaiba has just brushed his teeth. Jounouchi gagged convulsively and averted his eyes, feeling the cold, blue tile numbing his fingertips, and found that, despite the circumstances, he no longer felt the slightest bit ill.

Swallowing, he glanced quickly at the blue-eyed boy, found his gaze lingered longer on the lithe other than was absolutely healthy, and pushed himself quickly up off of the floor. He was out the door before he even realized he had moved.

Kaiba was silent.

**********

"Yug'!"

Yami no Yugi, often referred to as the 'Nameless Pharaoh', felt his uneasiness escalate as his best friend and fellow duelist rushed towards him, face flushed and hands fisted so hard that they were turning white. "Jounouchi-kun?"

"Yug', we gotta go." The blond said, voice low but vehement. Jounouchi swallowed roughly, and Yami thought that it looked like his friend was resisting the urge to turn around and glance behind him. Crimson eyes darted to glance over Jounouchi's shoulder, and narrowed as he saw Seto Kaiba step oh-so-casually out of the nearest men's bathroom.

"Jounouchi-kun, what's going--"

"Now!" The blonde interrupted, reaching out and grasping his arm with a hand so cold that Yami winced. Inside him, Yugi was clambering, desperate to know what was wrong with his best friend. Yami shushed him for the moment and allowed himself to be dragged away and out of the hotel by Jounouchi, all the while imagining that he felt ice-blue eyes trained on his back.

Hidden in a corner, another pair of eyes, these ones a deep violet, also followed the two duelists as they walked out of the door. They lowered when the tall plant next to him rustled almost imperceptibly. "Yes?"

Chocolate eyes stared calculatingly at him. "So it _is_ you."

"Were you expecting someone else, Yami no Bakura?"

"Not exactly. I just like to keep informed when someone is screwing around with my playthings."

"That is none of your concern, Bakura." Half-lidded purple eyes glanced at the lighter boy out of the corner of the Egyptian's eye.

"Maybe not." The flash of canine-like fangs in a feral grin. "But I don't appreciate it when others infringe on my territory, O Thief of Hearts."

The blonde's eye widened slightly. "How do _you_ know of the spell, Tomb Robber?"

"It's creator was one of the Ninety-Nine.[1] I would be careful where you tread, Guardian. You may be getting more than you bargained for."

Malik watched, lips pursed, as the silver-haired youth turned and slipped silently away.

**********

Anzu Masaki stepped out of the dealer's room, new Duel Monsters cards safely inserted into her deck, and blinked as she thought she spotted Yugi and Jounouchi walk out the door. Slowly, glancing from the door to the corner where she'd last seen them (now empty), and back again, Anzu took a tentative step forward and towards the main entrance. They wouldn't have just left her there without a word, would they?

The puzzled frown on her face fell as a pair of dark boots stopped to her left, and she glanced over, eyes widening a bit when she realized just who exactly stood next to her. "Kaiba?"

"Where's that damn excuse for a flea-bitten mongrel, Masaki?" The ice in his voice froze Anzu on the spot, and she flinched. Something was up, and it had to do with Jounouchi. Again.

"Uh..."

"Answer the question, before I get angry."

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Before he gets_ angry? Then what is he now?_ "I think he just left with Yugi." She offered, watching as Kaiba turned and stormed out of the building, like a storm reaching its boiling point.

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Jounouchi, what have you done this time?

**********

"He's gonna kill me." Jounouchi told his mirror bluntly. The reflection was silent. "...Aw, what'm I saying, _I_ should kill me!" He groaned as he sat down heavily, turning pink. "I can't believe I... I..."

He couldn't think clearly. His mind was fuzzy, and the past few hours were slightly blurry in his mind. "I didn't _mean_ to do it, of course." He reasoned. "I must have tripped and fell. On his... No! Don't go, there Jounouchi," He shook his head frantically, but it only made him dizzier.

"Okay, that's it. I was sick, I did something stupid, and that's that. I can forget the whole thing happened, because I know _he_ won't say anything about it." The blonde couldn't even say Kaiba's name out loud. "I'll go to sleep, and tomorrow it'll be like nothing happened." He grinned, a bit weakly, but a smile nonetheless.

He was not sure exactly what had happened today-- he was quite sure he didn't _want_ to know what had happened-- but no one knew about it but him. And, well-- _him._ Yugi hadn't pressed the blonde when he had left the Game Shop, and Jounouchi hadn't wanted to talk, so not even his best buddy knew. So he could pretend like nothing _had_ happened. Perhaps he'd even forget about it after a good night's sleep. So the blond settled down to do just that, though he couldn't dismiss the phantom pressure on his lips.

Katsuya Jounouchi did not sleep well that night.

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[1] - _One of the Ninety-Nine - _According to someone on ygo_yaoi, when Yami no Bakura was living in a city of thieves as a kid in Egypt, the Pharaoh's army ran through the city and killed everyone except for Bakura, picked up the corpses, and defiled an old seal by extracting the seven Millennium Items from it and using the 99 corpses (that's why Bakura's alive, he's number 100) to "create"/imbue the items. I'm just using author's license to make one of those ninety-nine a mage of sorts. It's better than just making up a creator for the spell.

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I realize that there isn't much in this chapter, and I'm sorry. I hope to have the next one out soon, and it will deal with the repercussions of this spell-gone-wrong. And yes, it has gone wrong, in more ways that one.

And with that little tidbit to tickle your mind--

See you in the next chapter! And don't forget to review!  
Nozomi

PS. I might come back and edit a few things in this chapter later on, making it longer and such, so keep checking back!


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